Monty After Dark

Chapter 34

I threw on my hoodie and decided to look for Chan. She was sitting at the kitchen table, reading a magazine.

"Hey ... " she trailed off. "I made some Christmas tea," she said, pointing at the teapot on the stove. "I know you don't like tea, but it doesn't taste like regular tea."

"Sure," I replied. I knew this was just her way of comforting me, and I wanted her to know I appreciated it. She put the tea in a mug with snowflakes on it. I smiled. Oh, Chan. That was so her.

"What are you reading?" I asked, nodding at the table.

"Just a magazine about cookies. I wanted to bake some cookies for Christmas."

My eyes fell. "I used to like Christmas when I was little. Mrs. Murphy always made a gingerbread house, and we would decorate it and listen to Bing Crosby. She had an apron with little birds on it. We would make gingerbread people, and one time, she drew a hockey stick on mine with that really gross white icing."

"I know," she said. "It's hard for me, too. This is going to be my second year away from my family. I miss them."

She had never admitted it like that before. I figured, I mean, who wouldn't miss their family if they suddenly disowned them. Well. Except me. I'm not sad my dad isn't talking to me, but maybe Chan's family aren't a bunch of assholes. Although, they might be, if they don't even talk to her?

"Well, we will have our own Christmas. I always had Christmas here," I said. I thought it might cheer her up to hear about all the things Mrs. Murphy used to do. "We would put up the Christmas tree and watch Frosty the Snowman. She made me hot chocolate with marshmallows. I had my own special decoration. Mrs. Murphy's son gave it to me when she passed away. It's on the shelf in my room. It's a gold "M" for Matt."

"My tree is in the basement," she said quietly.

"We could put it up?"

"I usually wait until after Grey Cup," she said. "But I guess a couple days early wouldn't hurt?"

We brought the tree and some boxes of decorations upstairs from the basement and put them in the living room.

"Are you hungry?" Chan asked. "I was thinking we could have some French toast? If you like?"

I wanted to answer, but I felt for a minute like I was dizzy. I sat down on the couch.

"Oh, no, what's wrong?" she hurried to sit beside me, wrapping one arm around my shoulders.

"Sorry, I just think my brain is too full," I said, with a sad laugh.

"I know." She kissed my cheek. I wanted to say something else, but nothing came out. I picked up her hand and pressed it to my chest where my heart was beating so fast.

"It hurts," I whispered.

She kissed my forehead and my hair, bushing the long, shaggy strands behind my ear.

After breakfast, I started opening one of the boxes of Christmas stuff. I pulled out wooden Santas, something heavy wrapped in paper (a candy dish) and at the bottom of the box, a photo album.

Chan was in the kitchen rinsing out the candy dish, which she said was her Grandma Elizabeth's. I opened the album. All the photos were in black and white. It looked somewhat recent, but not too recent. The glossy photos were of a smiling family. A mom, dad, boy, grandma, another lady who looked like the dad, and a dog. All were sitting in front of the fireplace, stockings hung.

"What are you doing?" Chan blurted when she walked back into the living room.

"It was in the box ..." I started.

She took the album from my hands and sighed. She closed it and stuck it on top of the shelving that held her books and framed photos – as though hiding it would put the memories back in the box.

"Is that your family?"

"I took those when I was in Sec. 3. That's Grade 9 for you. We start high school in Grade 7 in Quebec. That was my first photography class. I printed those photos myself, they were taken with a real film camera."

"They're beautiful. But I'm guessing since you changed the subject that it is your family."

"Don't." She turned away from me. "You haven't even told me what happened this morning, so don't go prying into my business with my family." She had never snapped at me like that before. It was like a slap in the face.

I stood up. If she was going to push me away now, now that I know where my mother is, and that my dad has basically ended our relationship, then I don't need her.

"I'm going to go home and get ready for work." She didn't say anything. I picked up my jacket off the railing at the bottom of the stairs and walked out the front door without looking back. I felt an immediate sigh of relief to see my dad wasn't home.

I texted Chris.

"Hey man, do you mind if I stay with you for a few days?"

"Sure, you can have the couch in the basement. See you at the shop?"

"Yeah man."

In the shower, for the first time in a long time, sex never crossed my mind even once. The water just pelted down on my face until the hot ran out. I think this was the sign I was looking for. Whether or not I should meet my mother. And this was a big no. This is what I get for letting her in.

Chris came by the shop and I did his skates. "Where's Fraser?" I asked.

"Soccer." I shuddered. Soccer. Yuck.

The hum of the sharpening machine was soothing. Working always made me feel useful and like I deserved to be here. I admired the job I did before giving the skates back to Chris.

"You still want to come by later?" he asked. I had a feeling he didn't want to ask what was going on. I wasn't in the mood to talk about Chan right now. Or ever.

"Yeah, I can't really go home, I mean I went by earlier and picked up some of my shit, but my dad's such a psycho."

"No shit. Brutal. Well, come by when you're done."

When I was alone again, I had to find things to keep myself busy, so I wouldn't think about everything. My dad is completely full of shit. Except that now I'm kicked out of my house because of Chan, and we're done, so that was kind of a waste. Except that maybe it was just the thing I needed to finally bail on my dad. I'm 17, it's not like I have to live at home.

Mel text me to ask about my dad.

"He's totally fucked," I wrote back.

"Shitty. You want to go for a drive or coffee or something later? I'm done work at 9."

"Sure. Me too, I'm at the shop."

"K see you then."

A couple of other guys from the team came by to get their skates done. I wasn't feeling super into anything, so I said I had shit to do and they left. I scrolled through my phone. I didn't even know how many of these numbers I still had. Past 'Lax tourney broad,' 'Jean shorts,' 'Smitty's gf's friend' and 'Road head.' Some of them had photos on their contacts, but I still didn't even recognise most of their faces. Then, I saw one I did remember. 'Brunette from Soupy's' wasn't going to know what hit her. I hadn't wheeled one of these dumb broads in months, but I had to do something. I opened a new message, stared at it. I didn't write anything.

I saw the car lights pull up to the shop a few minutes after 9 while I was fiddling with closing the till. I was almost done, when the stupid printer jammed while I was printing the count from the register. Fucks sakes, Jim needs to get this thing fixed.

I didn't notice the second set of headlights shining in the window while I swore at the machine. I pried out the piece of register tape that was stuck in the gears and snapped the lid back closed. What else could go wrong today? I wondered. I tallied the debits, credit card payments and cash. I felt almost surprised that the numbers added up. Relieved, I put the money in the bag and locked it in the safe for Jim to deposit in the morning.

When I stepped outside to lock the front door, I first saw Mel's beat up Chevy, but she wasn't sitting in it. She was leaning on the hood of Chan's Mustang two spots over. They were both looking at me.